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“This is Bridget Radford.” He left them to walk over to me. “Bridget, I’d like to introduce you to my parents, Li Mèng yáo and my father Joe Sullivan.”
I put out my hand to shake theirs and then smiled at his mother. “You didn’t tell me your mother was so young, Michael.”
She lit up when I said that. It was only the truth, but I was happy to see it seemed like the right thing to say. His mother hadn’t embraced him, but she closed me in her thin, strong arms in that moment. “Oh, I am so happy to meet you. I had thought maybe…never mind. You are beautiful. Very young but beautiful.”
I didn’t know what to do with that compliment, so I simply smiled and hugged her back. “I understand you’re responsible for this incredible home. You found it for Michael, right? He’s been telling me about how you’re a big-time realtor in Boise. That has to keep you very busy. I’m always so impressed with people who can manage the kind of schedules most realtors have to keep. I think I’d be very bad at that sort of thing myself.”
“How is the river? Catch anything since you’ve been home?” Joe asked Michael, and I tried not to smile.They really do only talk about fish and sports.
Michael’s mother launched into a discussion on real estate, and I filled in the bits I knew from people I met in the industry. I tried to listen and found her animated and interesting, only I couldn’t stop catching Michael’s eye. Whatever he was thinking was lost to me again, hidden behind a carefully blank expression. Would I ever know what he was thinking all the time? Did Ineedto know?
* * *
His parents didn’t stay long,as he’d promised, which surprised me. For a two-hour long drive from Boise, they only remained an hour. Michael closed the door after waving goodbye, then abruptly turned to me, backing me into the wall. He breathed heavily, his grip rough at my waist, and his nose grazed against mine. “How did you do that?”
I swallowed, licking my lips. My breath rushed out of me, every inhalation filling my lungs with his tempting scent. I neither expected the aggression from him, nor my instantaneous and heated response to it. Small kisses and touches, even sleeping next to each other, were one thing.This is something else.
And I couldn’t say I minded the change. My heart rate increased, and I caught my breath when my sensitized nipples grazed against his chest. “What did I do?”
“Charm my parents. Usually, my visits with them are tense and awkward. You even got my father talking about food. How did you do that?” Again, he moved his nose alongside mine before pulling slightly away, a long and slow stroke of sensation followed by the absence of him.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think clearly, not with him so close. “I’m used to talking to strangers. I haven’t lived near anyone I know for some time, so I’ve gotten good at first meetings and introductions. It’s only later, when they know me better, that they would either decide I’m interesting and eccentric or someone they don’t want to know.”
I babbled the words out, staring at him. I didn’t know what I wanted, but the scent and nearness of him might drive me mad if he didn’t do something soon.
He kissed me then, right as I thought my nerves might snap from the tension. One long press of his mouth to mine, and he didn’t let go to make it an easy, friendly embrace. No, this spoke of something else. Possession? I felt possessed, an overwhelming hunger for him driving me for more.
“It’s not up to them if they want to know you or not,” he rasped, coming up for air.
“You’re kissing me. A lot.” I pointed out the obvious because my fingertips were on his skin and he felt so, so good.
“I like kissing you, and you like me doing it,” he replied, dragging his lips up my cheek and to my ear. He bit down on the lobe and I shivered against him.
All of that was true, so I didn’t bother denying it.
I tilted my head, drunk on the sensations, and his gaze fell to my neck. What was he thinking of doing there? What made his steady gaze go so hot?
Instead of asking, I said, “Yes, but it’s new and nothing has changed, per se. I still can’t…”
“Can’t or won’t?” His voice was low, and he nuzzled against my neck, breathing me in an audible breath that made me warm inside. His lips dragged against my neck, driving little shivers of pleasure dancing across my skin.
“Does it matter?” I whispered, unsure why I didn’t speak louder. We were alone. No one would hear me, yet it seemed like a moment for whispered secrets.
His hand moved to my hip, his fingertips digging into my skin as he pulled me closer. “I can feel how you want me. I’d have to be dead to not know it, and you know…because I told you four years ago. I want you, Bridget. Permanently. I want you so fucking much. So, yes, it matters to me if it’scan’torwon’t. The answer determines how I proceed.”
I appreciated his honesty, and my breath trembled out of me. I had to close my eyes to even say the words, because it wasn’t what I wanted. “Michael, you don’t understand. I’m protectingyoufromme. I’m not okay, so it’scan’tandwon’t.”
His gaze met mine when I opened my eyes again, and he captured me in that moment, not letting me look away from the intensity of his steady stare. I took a long breath, not sure if there was enough air in the room. I felt lightheaded, dizzy from the confession and his proximity. “Did something happen to you, Bridget? When you were twenty-one… That was the year things changed. I remember, because it was the year you went from being completely confident to thinking there was something wrong with you all the time. You can tell me what happened. There’s nothing you can say that will change how I feel about you. Nothing ever could.”
It took me longer than it should have to realize what he was asking me. “What happened to Hope—that didn’t happen to me. Nothing like thatat all.”
Since he still gripped me so close, I could feel some of the tension leave Michael’s body. His nose nuzzled along my jaw, a warmth I couldn’t help but turn my face toward. He asked, “Are you sick? Because that won’t make any difference either. Whatever it is, we could face it together.”
Had he always been so sweet? If so, I didn’t notice, which kind of made me sad. I confessed, “I’m a bad person. I’m not physically sick. You don’t reallyknowme, Michael. In my heart, where it matters, I do bad things to people. I basically am my father’s daughter in all ways, or at least in the ones that matter. I’m not sure I could stand seeing you look at me the way that you will when you finally realize who I am. Do you have any idea how much worse it would be to realize you’ve saddled yourself with someone who destroys lives?”
8
Five years earlier
